


Mechanations

by prplmunky



Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: F/F, Getting back on the fanfic horse, Sexyconsent, Smut ahead, solo project, where in the world is Starky SanD7ego?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:54:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23663476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prplmunky/pseuds/prplmunky
Summary: Brief scenes and character musings.All of the gay.
Relationships: Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Comments: 28
Kudos: 225





	1. Best Laid Plans

**Abigail**

Petra Bellweather had taken the blame for yet another nay nay brained soldier who happened to whelp a nay nay brained conscript before she offed herself on an enemy’s seed. Now Abigail had to deal with the fallout, as well as defending her family’s honor.

This wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Turned out she wasn’t _entirely_ a shitbird. Collar’s rage made her stupid, but the girl was _strong_ , so strong that she didn’t mind it when they ripped the two of them apart before the building collapsed. The General had been right about her, Abigail just needed to figure out how to turn her every which way she wanted. Necro girl and her mother made her stupid, made her weak, and Abigail could exploit that, just like her mama had taught her.

And the General? Well, Adler had weaknesses of her own, her own mother even said it, when it was just the two of them alone in the house. The woman had been alive since the dawn of the Salem Accords, and it made change glacial instead of as-needed, which it should have been. It wasn’t her mother’s fault that so many of those missions had gone south. Adler was fighting a war of attrition, and losing, by the look of the conscription size this year. Abigail would be lucky to _attend_ War College at all, much less finish it, but she was a Bellweather, and Bellweathers planned. So she would plan, and wait, and bide her time.

* * *

**Scylla**

She hadn’t wanted to say the words when that damned ball of fire came for her, but Scylla had run out of options and bolt holes, had lost the last people she really, truly cared for, so why the fuck not?

Besides, her contact had asked her to do it, and what better way to crush the military industrial complex than to turn their army’s own secrets against them?

The poetic irony was as bitter as the words coming out of her mouth:

“I Scylla Ramshorn, do solemnly pledge  
To protect and defend The United States of America  
Against all enemies foreign and domestic."

This, at least, was true. Conscription and the war machine that required it was the enemy, and she was going to bring it down.

“I will faithfully serve and obey the Rules and Articles  
For the governing of the army of The United States  
All secrets keep  
All lawful commands willingly performed  
As dictated by the Salem Accords.”

She would just need to obey both her loathsome masters as she was doing it.

She’d vanished, without a word to anyone, including her mysterious contact, and gotten on the first flight to Boston. Scylla the Conscript landed, and buried the real parts of her deep down where no one could find them. The anger twined with fear and burrowed into the lowly dark places of her soul. She was a loner even amongst the Necros, shrugging off small chat and social invitations alike. Scylla learned to be the deathcap mycelium that bound life and death together, an endless unseen cycle known only to a select few. Not one single witch had tried to learn it. No one had cared about what wasn’t freely offered up, they hadn’t even spared Scylla a second glance.

No one, until Raelle…


	2. Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some backstory for Scylla

**Scylla \- ** **One Year Prior**

Once Scylla had set foot inside the walls of Fort Salem, she’d started seeing things. Little flits of movement, but only out of the corner of her eye and then gone once she looked at it. Scylla had thought it was stress from the rigorous coursework, but even after she adjusted, there it was, flit-flit and  _ just _ out of reach.

She'd been combing out her hair in the mirror when it finally showed itself. Scylla had been envisioning a monster, a person, anything, really. She hadn't expected a balloon to appear in her mirror, a pale, off putting globe that seemed to slowly twist in an unseen breeze.

Scylla had ignored it after the first startled scream it wrenched from her. It was a reflection, and Fort Salem was rife with defensive magic. If the Spree, and she was fairly certain that’s who her contact belonged to, could kill their enemies through mirrors, this war would already be ended. She was safe, for now, and could hardly help the cause when she was still a green Necro going through Basic. They couldn’t possibly want her, not yet.

Then the messages started.

She ignored those too, focusing instead on the work, spending most of her time outdoors in the forest, far away from any mirrors. She avoided bodies of water too, just in case.

One day the messages stopped changing, and only a single word appeared, over and over and over again.

Every mirror she passed, every single glinting, reflective surface, and all of them emblazoned with the same word:

**PORTER**

Idealistic Porter who thought if he just abstained and sat out of the war, if  _ enough _ of them refused to say the words, then the problem would just go away. Finding a resistance contact had been Scylla’s idea, an idea he didn’t support. Active resistance had always been a point of friction between them, leading to vicious and escalating fights that only ended when she convinced her parents to leave their safe house and find someplace else.

Then they’d been caught out in the open and it had gone from bad to nightmarish in an instant. 

Her mother , loving to the very end, had reached into her pocket for the one gift that had always fascinated Scylla. Held in her palm, glinting in the dreary afternoon light, was the crystalline sheath that preserved a flower. Pale, delicate, it was  _ Monotropa uniflora _ , the ghost plant, a flower who bloomed in darkness, taking only the nutrients of the dead to grow into the world. It was haunting and beautiful, like nothing she’d ever seen, and Scylla loved it.

“Spree!” One of the guards yelled.

What followed was a mess of scourges and Wind Strikes. Attack after attack until the broken bodies that lay where her parents stood were unrecognizable as human, much less her family.

The "weapon" turned to crushed flower caused endless paperwork and debriefings; there was no place in those meetings for Scylla, so they locked her away.

She was left in a holding cell to grieve, and to wait out whatever shape the rest of her life took.

The only thing that came in or out was a meal tray, they had seized most of her possessions but she'd kept her clothing, disgusting as it was now. She had asked for release dozens of times and never gotten a response. Scylla would eat the food, when she grew desperate enough, but usually ignored meals in favor of feasting on the past.

One unremarkable day she decided to eat, and under the tray was a much folded scrap of paper. She palmed it and stuck it into her filthy pocket. She ate, casually, then returned the tray to the table and retreated to her reminiscing corner, in case anyone was watching. Turning as far as she could from the door without being obvious, she fished out the scrap of paper and unfolded it. Written in an unmistakably familiar hand was a message:

_ SAY THE WORDS _

What day was it? Life as a Dodger made it easy to lose track of time, and it had been a long while since that particular bit of magic had come for her. Had it really been a whole year though? It must have been. 

Must have been their plan all along, imprisoning her until she said the Oath or died waiting for a release that would never be granted. 

Scylla was young enough, frail and  _ impressionable _ enough that she could still be trained to feed the endless, hungry gullet of the war machine. At least that's what the guards assumed. Left only Fort Salem and life as a trained military witch, what choice did she have?

So she'd obeyed the message and said the words.

Here it was again, a year later. It was her contact’s same handwriting. It was bled wide by finger smudging, but still held the same demanding needs, and this time, the threat was far more direct than imprisonment.

“Fine.” Scylla spoke to her mirror. “What do I do?”

The balloon twisted into a tilt, as if it were considering her. Then fog on the mirror revealed her mission.

**CONSCRIPTS**

**FIND COLLAR**

What that meant, Scylla could only guess at.


	3. Target: Assigned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scylla fulfills her contacts desires, and gets more than she bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moved The Kiss to after this chapter so it's working chronologically instead of by publication, this is the newest one as of 4/18

**Scylla  
** **Present Day**

When she first saw the glamour, Scylla thought her contact had lost it. The mixture of seed tones was like nothing she'd ever seen before, and it took six tries and nearly passing out to get it right. When she was finished though, and a stranger stared back at her, well that was worth all the pain and effort. Now she could become _anyone_ , go anywhere she liked. If she had known this before, her family would have been safe.

"How do I..?" She mimed peeling her face off.

  
  


**FIRE**

  
  


"Just burn myself? Won't that-"

  
  


**DO IT**

  
  


The balloon shook and Scylla pulled out her lighter, flipping it open. Her shaking hands botched the flint wheel twice before the wick caught. She raised the lighter toward her and then stopped, hesitating.

  
  


**NOW**

  
  


The balloon flew at the mirror and Scylla swore she heard a bump from the other side. Defensive Fort Salem magic or no, she was all alone and not about to take any chances with someone this volatile and powerful. Scylla raised the flame to her chin and watched the fire bloom across her skin. The glamour sloughed to embers and ash until only Scylla remained, shocked and unscathed.

"Thank you, I-"

 _BONG!_ The bell tolled for morning training, she would be late if she didn't hurry, and besides that, today was- Scylla's blood ran cold as she remembered. Today the new Conscripts arrived. Today was the day her subterfuge went from harmless to treason.

  
  


**REMEMBER**

  
  


How could she possibly forget?

  
  


**RAELLE COLLAR**

  
  


So she got a name this time, that was helpful. Now she just needed to hunt through the first years. They'd be young and easy to impress, she just needed-

The Salva! She'd pinched it from an upper class War College student who'd gotten too drunk on honey mead to walk straight. Scylla had helped her back to the dorms and held her jacket the whole way. What was the harm in taking a little payment for a good deed?

Now that good deed was about to repay itself with another.

\-----

She'd stood by the next great Sorcell general-to-be when the recruiting buses drove in.

"Any legacies?" She'd asked casually. If there was one thing a Sorcell liked to do, it was talk about lineages.

A sea of fresh faces poured out of the buses. Behind those, the town cars were parked, and a different sort of people emerged from those. High Atlantic legacies were easy to pick out among the Cession conscripts.

"Bellweather," the girl obliged, "but there's one every other year, practically." She turned towards Scylla conspiratorially. "But this year there's a Swythe, so that'll be a show worth watching."

"Anyone less...high and mighty?"

The Sorcell girl looked at Scylla like she'd lost it. "I mean sure, but where's the fun in that? We do have two final scions though: a Craven and a Collar."

"Now what's _not_ fun about that?" Scylla asked. "What's your wager: top of the heap, or most likely to become war meat?"

She snickered. "That Craven? War meat if her momma doesn't pull her home first to make little Craven babies, heard she got a dispensation and _still_ said the words. Collar though…" She actually turned towards Scylla this time. "I grew up hearing my mom tell these crazy tall tales about how Willa Collar stole some casualties back from Hecate herself. Then they went on to fight and win out the very next day. If her daughter's the same mettle then...well let's just say no bet on Collar…"

Interesting. Scylla picked through the sea of faces, looking for some small mark of familiarity or...well there had to be _something_ she was looking for, right?

Hair pale as flax hit the sun and Scylla felt something visceral spark in her, was this the Collar then? The recruit turned and she could see a line of braids that made her look more Chippewa than Conscript, but there hadn’t always been a Cession either. Scylla sighed. It wasn’t like anything else was cut and dry in this country, Scylla included, why would the Collar be?

Her target could have been anyone, but Scylla had a sneaking suspicion, deep in her gut, that she was looking at Raelle Collar.

The mass of recruits were led into the Grand Hall to hear a rousing speech from General Alder and Scylla walked into the nearby tree cover until she could barely make out the caravan of buses and the Grand Hall. She would watch, and wait, and make contact when the time was right.

\-----

The girl had made contact easy, and Scylla didn’t have to do a thing. A third year was stationed in the firing range, calling down a storm, and the danger drew the recruit like a moth to flame.

“Sounds like a freight train.” Scylla announced herself and the girl turned, but she kept talking, trying to keep her off balance with a smirk. “Who knew wind can cut rock? Wouldn’t mind learning to do that.”

Instead of engaging, as half the campus would have after that little exchange, she turned away. “Yeah, well, with my luck I’ll wind up a medic like my mom. Didn’t work out so well for her.”

There it was then, her hunch had been right on target.

“Shouldn’t you be in training?”

“Shouldn’t _you?_ ” Scylla retorted. She even amped it up with a flirtatious smile.

What was probably Raelle Collar licked her lips and considered. Oh, this was going to be her best assignment yet, and it was only just starting.

Then a posse of upper class War College wannabes had to butt in and ruin everything, great.

“They were _loads_ of fun…”

“Yeah, I hear they do birthday parties.” The girl cracked, turning towards Scylla.

Wait, the Last Scion chip-on-her-shoulder-the-size-of-a-continent rebel was cracking _jokes?_ Scylla laughed and, to her surprise, it wasn’t forced.

“Walk you back?”

She was even gallant, despite it all, or maybe because of it. “I’m Scylla.”

“I’m Raelle.” They turned and walked back together.

Yep, best assignment.

By far.


	4. High on Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Kiss
> 
> (smut, smutty smut, smut smut)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moved this chapter to 4 because it works better chronologically, the latest chapter as of 4/18 is Chapter 3 (Target: Assigned)

**Scylla**

Salva had been like kissing that damn fool recruit for the first time. 

“I know a way.” Then a kiss, tentative, an invitation as she watched the battle rage inside Raelle for a brief, flickering instant.

The euphoric flush as those eyes had turned to her, pupils so dark and wide she could barely make out the blue. Raelle’s lips returning almost against her own volition, and Scylla welcomed them, welcomed the traitorous spark that kindled the fire within her, claiming Raelle until she was nothing but hunger yearning to be slaked.

Scylla had to wonder if the rush she felt was from the power of binding Collar to her, or the raw, unfettered desire she saw reflected back. 

That same feeling of weightlessness, as Raelle pushed Scylla back against the wall to take her properly, to claim her with lips and tongue and promises. She rode the storm of that hunger, gave herself to it, arching into her bold, possessive grip.

Did it matter, really? Their chemistry served two masters, as Scylla herself did, and this short term goal was _far_ more satisfying than her ultimate one.

“Tell me.”

Scylla’s hands fluttered like startled birds as a calloused finger pad skipped over her clit. She had to speak, she had to say something, what was-

“Let them train you.”   
Raelle bit and sucked at her pulse point. Scylla had to stay in control had to-  
“Let them make you powerful.”

“The way over,” Fuck, Raelle was-  
and right-   
“is under.”

“Okay.” It was almost playful.

“The way out, is-”

“In.” Raelle finished for her, pinning Scylla further with her free hand before pressing in and filling her, curling slow and delicious as they shared kisses and desperately panted breaths.

Was this success? Scylla didn’t know, she had traded control for victory. Now all she needed, as she rode Raelle’s slick fingers, steadily driving in and out of her in a maddening tempo, was to finish.


	5. Shiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filling in the gap between Eps 1 and 2, in which Scylla debunks some myths about witch marks.
> 
> Thar be smut ahead, for leagues and leagues.

**Scylla**

**AGAIN**

Scylla cast the glamour, reconjuring the dishwater blonde that had flickered in the mirror for a heartbeat. She wondered if this was the face of her contact. She seemed young, but so did Scylla, and her life hid more darkness than most Generals. The balloon in the mirror tilted and Scylla tilted with it, matching angle to angle until a metallic ping at the window meant her ward had been tripped.

The balloon vanished and she flipped open her lighter. _C’mon._ She spun the flint wheel, gratified when it caught on the first try. _Faster!_ She didn’t have much time. The flame caught and she thrust it towards her face, no hesitation this time as she willed the flames to spread and her real face to return. She caught a glimpse of herself in the vacant mirror, felt the cinders tickle at the nape of her neck. A knock sounded, and the guttering embers would have to do. Scylla put her hand on the door, opened it.

Raelle stood on the other side, her eyes hungry and staring a little too wide. Scylla’s breath caught as she stepped forward, smirking. Her racing heart slowed not one beat as their lips met and Scylla dragged her inside. Raelle, ever considerate, shut the door with the last of her reach.

She broke for some much needed air. “You’re back.” Scylla whispered raggedly.

“You’re surprised?” Raelle was impatient, plucking at her clothing even as she leaned in to kiss her.

“Maybe you should teach me not to be.” Scylla murmured huskily. Raelle was all storm and fury again. How much should she leave untamed? 

Scylla gripped the lapels of Raelle’s jacket and pulled her closer, hearing a pleased growl as their lips touched. It sent goosebumps prickling all the way to her ears. She caught Raelle’s bottom lip between her teeth and bit lightly, turning the growl up a couple octaves into a whine of yearning. 

Scylla let go, feeling no remorse, and Raelle gave no ground, using their closeness to draw Scylla in again, sucking at her top lip as her tongue swiped against the barrier of her teeth, demanding entrance. Scylla granted it and heard a sharp exhale through Raelle’s nostrils as she caressed the welcomed invader, slick hot velvet as an introduction of other heat in other places. 

Raelle tasted of coffee, musk, and a faint metallic hint of what must have been blood. That fight between her and the Bellweather had been whispered about all over campus. Even the third years spoke behind their hands of anger so strong it nearly brought down the rafters, and now all that power was directed at her.

Scylla’s hands were fisted into regulation lapels, but Raelle’s hands wandered, the palms gliding down her body, across her shoulders then down, her thumbs caressing the sides of Scylla’s breasts through the thin cloth of her shirt until it was her turn to gasp. She released a lapel and laid her right palm against Raelle’s chest, feeling her wild heartbeat thrum even through the jacket.

“Mmmmhmm.” She hummed against their still interlaced tongues and felt Raelle sag against her. Scylla divested Raelle of her coat and started pressing her, one backward step at a time, towards her bed. 

When they passed the mirror, Scylla kept her eyes trained on the thin ring of blue surrounding pupils dark as the new moon. She was a servant, yes, but this was _their_ moment, it belonged to Scylla and Raelle and no one else.

Raelle kept her gaze trained on Scylla, so much so that when she backed her into the bed there was a spasm of surprise. Scylla took advantage and placed both hands on Raelle's shoulders, pressing her down into a seat on her mattress.

"I think we left off around here last time." Scylla ran a single finger tip down Raelle's arm, grinning when every single hair in its wake stood on end. Raelle's throat bobbed in a nervous swallow.

"Did we?" She breathed. "Well..." 

Another shaky inhale as Scylla's exploration trailed across Raelle's jawline, her eyelids fluttering shut involuntarily. She reached up a hand to gently cup Scylla's knuckles and looked up at her.

"Can't keep a lady waiting then." She pressed Scylla's thumb into her mouth, capturing it proudly in a raised eyebrow grin before she closed her lips over it, drawing designs with her tongue across the sensitive skin. When she pressed the flat of her tongue around it and sucked, it was Scylla's breath that caught.

She nearly leapt on Raelle right then, Scylla propped up one knee and then the other until she was straddled across Raelle's hips and settling into her lap. She used her captive hand to expose Raelle's neck. First she nipped at her earlobe, biting hard enough that an explosive breath from Raelle freed her hand.

Then Scylla was free to lick, and suck, and occasionally bite her way back down from the line of her jaw to the junction of Raelle's shoulder. Exploratory hands slipped under Raelle's shirt to find warm skin beneath. She ducked her head and met Scylla in a kiss, and Scylla used the distraction to inch Raelle's shirt up until she could urge the whole thing off. 

Scylla blinked once in shock, but there was no other outward change. The skin under Raelle’s shirt mapped a ruin of scars, each ripple and line more painful looking than the last. 

It was easy for Scylla to accept them, after all, that’s what she looked like inside, and perhaps a younger Ramshorn wasn’t the only one to say the words out of desperation.

"There, that's better.” She leaned in to resume their kiss.

"But you're still dressed!" Raelle complained, stopping Scylla a scant inch from her mouth.

"That didn't seem to deter you in the least, if I remember rightly." Scylla reluctantly slid off her sexy perch and started to undo Raelle's buckle, which was obstructing her goal. She snaked the leather through before pulling down Raelle's waistband and popping the button free. 

As the zipper parted she pressed forward, kissing Raelle again as she plunged both hands into her pants and shucked them down to Raelle's ankles. Scylla knelt across the fabric, effectively trapping her prey, who was too slow to have removed her boots during this exchange and was now literally trapped with her pants around her ankles.

"You've got me." Raelle admitted, as Scylla was placed _very_ conveniently between her splayed thighs and mere inches from the softly glinting thatch that told her all she needed to know about her effect on Raelle.

Experimentally, Scylla blew out a breath and watched the tremor run through Raelle as strong thigh muscles clamped around her, almost rooting her in place. Ah, so _that's_ where her witch mark was. 

Wait, it was- “Hey, your mark, it’s-”

“I know,” Raelle sighed but didn’t budge an inch. “No dudes, no sparkles.”

No dudes? Is that what she really thought? Scylla had done a lot of terrible things in her life, but stealing virginity? That was low, even for her. 

She switched her targets, kissing her way to the juncture of Raelle’s hip, up her stomach then nuzzling breasts still bound under a black standard issue sports bra. She mouthed the exposed skin peeking out from the neckline, then left a trail of kisses higher and higher until they were staring nose to nose, the same as they’d been when Raelle was inside her. Scylla could feel a palpable heat radiating from her even now, as they were doing nothing. 

“Yeah, well I hate to break it to you, beautiful,” she echoed Raelle’s earlier words, “but that’s not the way it works.” 

A tiny crease appeared. “It’s not? But I’ve _had_ sex. Shit, Scylla, _we’ve_ had sex!”

Scylla kissed the tiny furrow. “Technically, _I’ve_ had sex, you were just a fantastic partner. Has no one ever...” Scylla placed a hand on Raelle’s hip, “touched you?”

The crease deepened into a furrow as Raelle plunged into memory. “No, why would they?”

“For the same reason you touch them.” Scylla said. “Because they want you to.” She looked into Raelle’s eyes, more blue lining the dark pupils this time. “Now I want to touch you, want it _very_ much, actually. And I need to know if you’re okay with that, with _me_ touching _you,_ if you _want_ that, because surprise, according to ancient witch lore and your mark, you’re actually a virgin.”

“Oh.” That furrow again.

Scylla started to back up, to give her space, and then Raelle hooked her fingers through a belt loop and tugged her closer.

Blue eyes fixed on her. “Kiss me.”

Scylla obeyed the request, nipping playfully until playful became heated and in a few moments they were both back to racing pulses and heavy breathing. Raelle reached out and cupped her breasts again, tracing quickly peaking nipples through the cloth with her thumbs. Scylla pressed against the contact, groaning only a little into the kiss, and subaudibly at that. Technical virgin or no, Raelle was damned suave.

Scylla curved her hand and brushed the backs of her fingernails across Raelle’s bared skin, she wouldn’t grab, wouldn’t push-

Raelle abandoned one of her breasts and placed a hand over her roaming one. Was that too much?

She looked up and was caught in Raelle’s regard, the storm was back, except this time…

Raelle watched her, intent and still beyond the rise and fall of their breathing. She slowly pulled Scylla’s hand down her chest, across the plane of her stomach and nestled her knuckles against curls that half hid her witch mark.

“Touch me.” She breathed, and Scylla did.

She splayed her fingers and cupped the breadth of her, familiarizing herself by touch to territory that had been so close she could still taste it on the back of her tongue. Scylla mapped, she delved, and when she slid a finger up to the source of that wetness and musk they both groaned out loud. Scylla retreated, pulling back her hand as Raelle strained forward after it.

She brought her hand up to her lips and sucked the digit clean. Seeing Raelle bite her lip while watching Scylla taste her was almost as good as the act itself. Smoke and dark honey, lemon and cedar, complex as the woman herself.

Scylla drew the pad of her thumb across Raelle’s swollen bottom lip, continuing on past her chin and then they were kissing, soft and exploratory turned to demanding as Raelle got a taste of herself and crushed Scylla to her. Demanding lips turned to demanding hands until she practically tore Scylla’s shirt off in the rush. Strong fingers started to pry off Scylla’s belt buckle but she gripped them, forestalling.

“We’ve already walked _that_ path.” She chastised.

“It had a _great_ view,” Raelle countered, but she stopped fighting.

Scylla pulled off her bra with a flourish. “And you’re complaining about this one?”

Raelle grinned, wolfish. “No, ma’am.” She said, before burying her face into Scylla’s chest. She emerged triumphantly, with Scylla’s medallion between her teeth and a saucy grin around it. Scylla rolled her eyes and snatched the medal back before hanging it on her lamp and shoving Raelle face first into her cleavage. Her captive hummed happily and then teeth lightly bit down, derailing her train of thought. Scylla’s hands flexed and her fingertips dug into Raelle’s shoulders as the pressure increased.

“‘N dho ‘dhis ish de’igh’ful,” Raelle said with a mouthful of breast, “I think...” she licked her way up Scylla’s sternum, breathing over the heated skin until she was inches from Scylla’s ear. She leaned in close with a breathy whisper. “That you were about to fuck me.”

_Shit._ Scylla’s body reacted for her, catching Raelle’s lips as her hand slid down. Raelle kneaded a breast, rolling a nipple between her fingertips. Down past a vicious looking burn scar until her fingers twined with damp curls. Down until she swiped across Raelle’s clit before sinking into her with a single finger.

Raelle sucked her tongue and Scylla obliged her, driving in deeper, in and out. She added a second finger and felt her skin drag on the long delicious inward strokes, then short frenetic pulses out until her hand was slicked with Raelle’s arousal and there was only smooth driving motion between them. 

She pressed deep, then deeper until her knuckles were the only thing stopping her and her thumb stroked Raelle's clit with every thrusting pass.

Raelle's hands had stopped doing anything but pulling Scylla closer, urging her deeper. She'd broken the kiss and now her teeth were latched tight onto the thick band of muscle on Scylla's shoulder. She slowed fractionally, "You okay?"

She didn't stop though, and Raelle moaned sharply into her skin as she drove inward. She was flushed, eyes dark and wild as a sheen of sweat coated her and made Raelle's skin glisten. She was beautiful.

"I'm close," she said, her voice ragged. "Ungh-so close." She groaned as her body tensed, synced with Scylla's penetrations. "Take me…" they rose and fell, tensed and roiled. "Take me with your mouth."

Scylla almost froze at the bold request. No, she wasn't beautiful, she was fucking exquisite.

Scylla knelt, keeping her slow, driving pace as she started to curl her fingers, focusing on ridges of now swollen tissue until Raelle's hips thrust in a mimic to her every motion. She leaned into the heady scent of arousal, swirling her tongue delicately around the sensitive nerve bundle that made Raelle-

"Fuck! Scylla, I-yes!" 

Emboldened now, she pressed forward, taking Raelle's clit in her mouth and sucking with the same teasing vigor her thumb had received. 

Raelle curled in on herself, muscles convulsing in time with swipes of her tongue, but Scylla held fast. She patterned stars, she drew arcane symbols, she wrote her name there, in Raelle's molten core, where no one else could read it. It was not until Scylla pressed a third finger into her slick heat that Raelle began to cry out. There were curses, her name every now and again, and even some various deities for good measure. Scylla sucked harder, humming in tones so low they escaped the human ear, but Raelle could feel them, and a taut, paralytic shaking seized her, froze her in this endless precipice until Scylla deigned to release her.

Scylla layered in a second frequency and then there was a particularly choked sort of profanity before intense pressure faded out the world for a moment. 

There was only darkness, and the sound of their heartbeats drumming together in the stillness. 

Then Raelle collapsed onto the bed, rigid strength turned boneless, and light and sound returned in a riot of sensation. Scylla unlaced Raelle's boots as she watched her face vacillate between bliss and consternation. She gulped air like a landed fish and it felt like an eternity before Scylla had ripped enough clothing off both of them to join in that blessed but brief skin to skin state of climactic trance.

Strong but trembling arms reached for her as soon as she made it into the bed. They encased her and held fast as Raelle buried her head against Scylla’s chest. She felt Raelle’s warm exhalations on her skin, still too fast for her liking. "Hey. You okay?"

A quiet, kittenish mewling sound came from her breast, and Scylla’s arms reflexively tightened. How did she get here? Scylla was a traitor, and she was pretty sure she was Spree now. She was going to seduce this girl with sex and anger until it led to dark, mutual power and instead…

“Hey.” She dipped her chin to kiss Raelle’s temple, then ran a soothing hand across the broad plane of her back. “You’re safe, and I’m here, and I’m gonna just keep on holding you, okay?”

“‘kay.” Came a small, muffled voice. The livewire tension in her muscles ebbed and the short, frenetic breaths ceased when Raelle sucked in a huge breath and let it out in slow, shaky increments.

“Yeah, just like that.” Scylla rested her chin against the top of Raelle’s head and wondered where the fuck this tender, nurturing person had come from and why were they speaking out of her mouth.

Raelle shifted a little and then Scylla felt her start to shake. Oh no, was she cr-

Giggling. Raelle was, in fact, giggling. 

Her newly deflowered ex virgin looked up at her and declared, “It’s shiny!” Before breaking out into a bout of infectious laughter. “It’s fucking shiny!”

Scylla grinned and kissed her square in the forehead. “Them’s the rules.” She said solemnly.

Raelle sobered, eventually. They could only laugh for so long while half naked. Their bodies subtly reminded them about heat and proximity until they were quietly staring at one another.

“Thank you.” She said softly. “Couldn’t have asked for a better partner on that kind of mission.”

Partner. That word hit Scylla in the chest and pinged around like shrapnel, burying shards in vital organs. “The pleasure was mine,” she said, an uncommon smile tugged at her lips when she realized it was true, “really.” She placed a small, chaste kiss at the corner of Raelle’s mouth.

Then Raelle kissed her back, and it quickly slid from gentle and affirming into deeper, heart thrumming territory. How did-

Heavy lidded blues smoldered at Scylla and she nearly kicked herself for being such an idiot. She let out a sigh, it was going to be a _long_ night...

“Well, guess you didn’t have to wait for Beltane to come into your sexual prowess.” She muttered. 

“What?” Raelle asked, nibbling along Scylla’s jawline as her hands did increasingly distracting things to her body.

“Never...nevermind.” Scylla breathed, and then kissed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone confused, I'm working with a technical definition of shiny witch mark virginity in which "sex" is defined as *someone else* causing *you* to orgasm to unlock shiny magic badassery.
> 
> Raelle would be defined as a Stone or Service top who does a Fantastic job getting everyone else off and for whatever reason (based on various comfort levels or possibly because those partners were too spent to move ;) ) nobody in Chippewa Cession managed to reciprocate.
> 
> If you're curious about further research, Autostraddle has a lovely definition page: "Service Tops, Bratty Bottoms and Pillow Princesses: Other Words You Use to Describe How You Have Sex"


	6. Sparkliest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Role reversal

**Scylla**

Raelle’s kisses were intoxicating, demanding. Scylla tried to tease, to distract, but Raelle’s hands were dowsing, restlessly gripping and sliding across aching skin and peaked nipples in their quest to delve, to sink in deep and turn a wellspring into a flood. Blunt nails grazed the skin of her inner thigh and then a tug of uselessly soaked fabric and Scylla was bare, heated under that hungry gaze. 

“Hey, beautiful.” She cupped Scylla's jaw and then slid a palm down her body to encircle her breast, rolling the nipple lazily with her thumb until it peaked. Scylla’s hips tried to follow suit, arching up into Raelle’s touch. Too soon she abandoned her breast and slid lower, then lower still and started a slow circling track around everywhere except where she needed it. Raelle skirted her slit, dodged her clit, until the change in pace from mindless lust to endless temptation overcame Scylla.

“I want you inside me.” She pleaded, then realized it wasn’t going to work when Raelle of the unchained fury was now the most patient of predators, eyes wide and tracking until Scylla bared a vulnerability she could sink her teeth into.

“Please.” Then she cried out as Raelle entered her with no preamble. It was rough, the pace was furious, and it felt incredible.

“Yeah, harder, just like that.”

Raelle pressed deeper, threw an arm around her hips and pressed Scylla closer still as the individual cords of her shoulder muscles stood out in relief against her skin. Incoherent nonsense was ripped from Scylla’s throat with every thrust and then she was climaxing, her body tensing around Raelle as she fought the confinement with every stroke.

A bubbly, effervescent feeling suffused Scylla, which was good; she would need it for the night ahead, because Raelle wasn’t stopping.

Scylla’s first orgasm down and then Raelle was crouched in front of her. Spreading her thighs apart before she settled between them, lapping gently at the abused nerves until Scylla’s body synced in rhythm with her. Then Raelle stopped and reached around Scylla’s legs, cinching her fingers together as she lifted Scylla’s hips and placed them tilted upwards and on her lap. Scyllas’s bent legs rested on Raelle’s shoulders and she could feel Raelle’s every breath as the movement transferred to her clit, resting flush against her stomach. A bold thumb fingered her, circling her clit and dancing just outside her opening. Fuck, this was maddening, was she going to make her beg for it every time?

“Are you going to fuck me, or am I sitting in a really sexy chair?”

“Touch yourself.” Came the soft command.

Scylla sucked a finger, dipping it in and out of her lips until it was shining and Raelle’s even breathing against her clit increased in tempo. Then she let her hands rove, watching Raelle’s eyes track her hands. She kneaded her breasts, tweaking both nipples in time, moaning hotly as she flexed her heels and drew closer, grinding herself against the plane of Raelle’s stomach. Then she splayed her fingers and pushed downward, stopping just shy of her clit. 

Raelle took a breath, and Scylla resisted twitching with the stimulation.

“Please.”

“I think you should get naked first.” Scylla demanded, though she didn’t know if she felt relief or disappointment when Raelle shrugged out of her legs and stripped off her bra without an ounce of showmanship. 

“Better?” Raelle asked. Then she pulled the medallion off and went to hang it next to Scylla’s, except her fingers fumbled the distance and it hit the ground with a soft thump. Raelle sighed impatiently and slipped out the bed, crouching next to it as she looked.

“It must’ve gone under.” Scylla said, casually helpful, and then cursed herself when she remembered what _else_ was down there.

“Hey, Scylla?” Came a muffled voice.

“Yeah?” If she acted like it was no big deal Raelle would overlook it, right?

“Do second years get wands or something?”

Wands? What was she- “No, why?”

 _PLINK!_ Raelle slapped the heavy medal against her bedside table and then a _very_ familiar looking bag rose up from the bedside with blue eyes that almost glowed with mischief behind them.

Ah well, it’s not like she hadn’t skipped a night of sleep before, though usually it was to practice illegal techniques instead of fucking til dawn.

“And look, you've found a bag of them, are you _sure_ you want to?I mean, they’re pretty advanced...” Scylla teased.

“I’m a quick learner.”

“One condition.”

“Anything.” Came the quick promise.

“Give me the bag.”

“But!”

“Nope, that’s my condition. Give it up, Collar, you’ve been flanked.”

Raelle grumbled and handed over the dark, shimmering velvet.

Scylla patted the mattress. “Now lay down.”

“That’s more than one!”

“And who has the bag?”

Raelle huffed and Scylla made room as she complied.

Scylla reached in and pulled out an intricate tangle of black leather and glittering steel. She dropped it on Raelle’s stomach and slapped her hands away when she reached for it.

“Hardly, young witch, these advanced techniques take _far_ more patience than that. Besides,” she said, untangling the longest of the straps, “I’ll make it worth your time.”

Raelle laid back down and Scylla used the end of the strap to trace a line to her hip, watching muscles tense and jump underneath pale skin. Then the shorter straps, one after the other. Intent eyes watched her fingertips brush inner thighs, and then a small growl as she stopped, her hand hovering above the apex between them.

Raelle’s hips levitated off the bed, sent on a desperate quest for friction and pressure. Scylla used the free space to reach across and set the hip strap.

“Planning on doing anything _else_ with those clever hands?” Raelle ground out.

“Yes, I was.” Scylla reached into the bag. She ran the options through her head and then sought her choice by touch. 

It was a deep blue, dark as ocean depths, sleek with a curve that hit every spot you wished it would, and when it hit the light-

"That's the sparkliest damned cock I've ever seen."

Scylla put the bag back down on the floor. "And you've seen many of those? I highly doubt that."

"Rainbow sparkles or no, I've seen enough to know how to use one." Then Raelle licked her damnably sexy lips and tucked her hands behind her head.

So Scylla bent her head and lapped the full length of her tongue across Raelle's clit, who sat up enough that Scylla could yank up the steel center ring and slide in said sparkly cock, centering the base on the border between clit and pubic bone.

Raelle's whole demeanor changed, casual looks became a fixed stare and she went from sarcastic complaints to something far wilder. She started to move and Scylla gripped the bobbing shaft, grinding down on it enough that any further motion was tied to the most sensitized part of her. 

"Did I say you could get up yet?" Then Scylla got up to her knees and straddled Raelle, her borrowed phallus only inches from its intended target.

"Am I gonna fuck you, or are you just sitting in a _really_ sexy chair?" Raelle gripped her hips to either side and pressed her forward, pumping her own hips a little so the side of the shaft ground against her clit.

"Are you going to keep talking, or can a girl get a little foreplay before getting fucked into next season?"

Calloused palms trailed up her body and then Raelle was working her breasts, kneading and tugging, pinching and pulling, and then a warm mouth covered a nipple and she pressed into it, grinding her hips when she felt the unexpected pressure of teeth. Then her fingers twined in Raelle's short hair and they were kissing, the lewd shaft of silicone pressing into both their bellies as it warmed to them. Scylla pressed forward until Raelle reclined, and then she placed both palms flat against the prominent bones of her hips and lifted herself up the six and three quarter inches she was going to need.

Raelle stilled to stone, waiting, watching with a hungry gaze that made impaling yourself worthwhile. A warm hand rested on Scylla's hip and the other guided the broad head down the length of her slit, helpful lubrication mixed with a teasing pass around her clit that almost made her fall on the damned thing. The gentle stroking at her hip made Scylla look up at Raelle and the softness there made her irritation evaporate.

"You're beautiful. Thank you for this."

Then the alignment fell into place and a second hand curled around her hip, strong and supportive as she set her own pace. Scylla flexed the muscles of her legs and ass and the head popped in. She breathed deep, adjusting to the sensation, and sank down another inch. Each tentative motion drove her closer to Raelle as more skin touched and the awkwardness faded. When she had taken all of it she leaned forward, supporting herself heavily against the small mounds of Raelle's breasts as she trembled from the overload of sensation.

"So beautiful…" Soft words and soft touches caressing the length of her back. "Can I show you how good that felt?"

She nodded, wordless against the intensity, and then Raelle began to move beneath her. Slow ripples of motion as they moved together, a plea for gentle care met with tenderness until a deep vibrancy thrummed to life inside her.

"Touch me." 

And she did, clever fingers mixing with knowing, breathtaking waves of movement beneath her until Scylla became a wave herself, crashing and breaking across the steady shore of Raelle's body. 

Gentle kisses peppered Scylla's hairline and they stayed like that for a minute, skin to skin and still connected so intimately that Scylla scarcely breathed too deep.

"Hey." Quiet and breathy.

"Hrrrrm?" Scylla mumbled into warm skin.

"You okay?"

"That was...unnnngh…" Scylla groaned and tried to articulate thought.

"You were incredible." As Raelle absently rubbed her back.

"Yep, incredible," Scylla managed, "if by incredible you mean incredibly fucked." And she was, the cold hard seductress of a traitor might be falling for her target, but it was all too much to think about right now so she didn't.

Raelle made a dismissive noise. "I can do better than _that_ , you did all the work on that one, love."

The steady rise and fall underneath Scylla froze. Had she meant it then? Best not to go there, best to ignore it and-

"Wait? What was that about 'better?'"

Raelle gave a short bark of a laugh that tensed her core and inadvertently rocked her hips.

 _Fuck._ Scylla tensed, her fingertips digging into whatever flesh she could grip.

"Shit, sorry I-" 

Scylla shut her up with a kiss, then threw some tongue in for good measure until she had burnt the apology away and Raelle had gone from tentative to bold.

"I believe someone promised me 'better.'" Scylla goaded.

Raelle jerked away and the body warmed rod of silicone slid out of Scylla, leaving her jarred yet aching.

"You can tell me after," Raelle said, grabbing tight and rolling so that Scylla was on her back now, "if I was right."

She lifted Scylla's right leg and propped it against her shoulder. Short nails etched fluid designs along the inside of her thigh, creeping closer and closer until she tensed with the anticipation of Raelle's hands on and inside her. She rose up a little, her knee fitting around Raelle's shoulder, before Raelle slid her other hand up Scylla's prone thigh before she lifted and curled it around her own shoulder. 

Anything of Scylla's even remotely vaginal was up close and personal with Raelle, who victoriously flexed her abs and Scylla had to groan a little at the stimulation.

"I lied," she said, grinding harder as Raelle hooked the tops of her thighs and brought Scylla even tighter against her, "you make a _very_ sexy chair, even when you're not fucking me."

"Did I say I wasn't?" A low, sure voice as Raelle shifted and then a flared head nestled against her opening. "Touch yourself, and I'll make sure this gets where it needs to go."

Every breath made her aware of how close Raelle was, the subtle pressure enough to send darts of stimulation with Scylla's every move, but not nearly enough to pass the ring of tightly coiled muscle and enter her. She stood on a cliff's edge, and there was only one way to dive off of it. 

Scylla rolled a nipple and tugged, trying to match her speed to the slow but increasing rate of Raelle's breath, every inhale just a _little_ closer to her goal. Scylla brought her left hand up to her lips and pressed her middle finger between them until she was two knuckles deep, slow enough that Raelle unconsciously leaned forward and pressed the ridge of the head in and past her opening. Scylla's moan was breathy and muffled around a knuckle, but Raelle stilled, hands cupping her hips and denying traction. She left her only that inch, and Scylla would need to work for more.

She slipped the finger back out and trailed the glistening digit in a straight line that Raelle's eyes tracked the entire way. Roving blue across her sternum, then her belly, and then a subtle lowering of Raelle's chin as Scylla parted her dark curls. 

"Show me." Raelle's voice low with dark excitement. "Show me what you like."

She was so wet that her finger slid right past it without any real traction, so she doubled back and pressed down enough to make every ridge of her fingerprint come in contact with her clit.

Every touch felt deeper, more intense, as her muscles flexed around foreign girth. She circled, arched up to find that just right angle from below, and was so in the moment that she didn't see when Raelle started to move, she only felt it. Short, almost imperceptible strokes matched the tempo of her fingers, the ridge back and forth just inside her and matching the sensations above with those inside. It felt great and Scylla opened herself to it, her own touch never stopping. The penetration was subtle, gentle and so tactile and persistent that Scylla began to lose focus as her body took over. Caught in the rhythm they shared, Raelle must have only been about halfway in when the everything inside her changed to a deeper, more urgent feeling. It was more intense and she suddenly felt so vulnerable that Scylla almost called a halt to everything. That 'everything' felt _so_ fucking good though and maybe just-

"Let go, Scyll, I've got you."

And then she hit a depth and angle that hit more strongly than anyone had in awhile and Scylla's feet flexed to get more of just. that. spot. as her hands blurred into frenzy and she just-

Let go.

Diving headlong off that cliff as her entire body tensed around Raelle deep inside her, clenching strong and hard until she could hear the ragged edge of her voice rising over and over again until her body released her. She was left bereft and shaking against Raelle's warm body, the hardened points of her nipples pressing into the backs of Scylla's thighs. She could feel a steady drip somewhere that has nothing to do with foreplay. Shit. Had she-

"That," Raelle said, slowly disengaging from inside her, "was the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen."

Scylla dared to look, and saw Raelle's belly shine with what was definitely more moisture than her previous strap on orgasm and yep, that was totally ejaculate. She closed her eyes and heard the jangle of metal as something heavy hit the floor before the whisper of cloth against skin. Was she dressing? Was she _leaving?_

And then Raelle's arms were around her, tugging her close, and soft kisses trailing down from her eyebrows to the tip of her nose finally made Scylla open her eyes.

"Thank you for trusting me." Raelle said quietly. "Watching you let go like that was…" she closed her eyes, a beatific smile forming before she opened them again and looked at her "Amazing. _You_ are amazing." She kissed her on the nose again and Scylla took a breath, relaxing into Raelle for a moment before noticing a contrite look.

"What is it?"

"Two things. One, we should probably shower soon because it's almost dawn and I smell like I've been fucking a beautiful woman all night."

"And two?" Scylla shut her eyes and nuzzled against the slope of Raelle's breast, listening.

"I uh, need to borrow a shirt." She said sheepishly. "Mine is a little, uhm, wet."

Scylla laughed and kissed Raelle's chest, just underneath a scar bisecting her collarbone.

"Shower and a shirt it is, on one condition."

"Yesssss?" Raelle said, and Scylla could feel the nibbling edge of teeth on the shell of her ear.

"You, my newly deflowered witch, are going right to sleep _._ "

"And if I refuse?" A warm whisper.

Scylla's fingers wandered across Raelle's bare body, following the subtle dips and swells of her curves until she rested a hand near her hip. "Then you'll have to explain that spot to Quartermain." 

Scylla sprung, tickling mercilessly until her victim was breathless from giggling. Then she rose from the bed and reached for her towel, they would sleep and shower soon enough.


	7. Connected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out of chronological order and taking place after 106 because I can't get the image of that mushroom wall out of my head and the ep is titled Mother Mycelium so it's gotta be just a *little* relevant, right?

**Raelle**

_"I want to show you something beautiful."_

Raelle was out in the woods, barefoot out in the dark and freezing with only sleepwear on but she didn't care. Her body was just so much meat, trapping her from hidden paths that could lead her where she most desired.

_"In the kingdom of plants, mushrooms occupy the underworld."_

She could hear it, a low thrumming song that called to her, has been calling to her since she'd entered that crypt. Her left palm itched and she traced it with a shaking fingertip, feeling for the raised S marking her skin. Scylla was close, and she was _alive_. It didn't matter what anyone said, Raelle would find her, she would hold her, kiss her, and then she would take her away, far away to that beach where no one could ever come between them again.

_"Nothing ever really dies. Life becomes death, which becomes life again, over and over."_

What she needed, what she hadn't stopped thinking about all night until she half stumbled through unknown trees in a dazed sleepwalk, was a mushroom. Abigail's dog had tried following her, but she was bound to protect the Bellweather family at all costs, so she had let Raelle go instead.

_"Sorry, I know it's a sensitive subject, but I just mean to say that-"_

Her right hand reached out, blindly, and Raelle felt leaves and dirt part beneath her seeking fingers. Next to her, luminous and white in the sparse moonlight, was the bulbous cap of a mushroom. She redoubled her efforts, feeling broken twigs tear at her skin until her fingernails scratched against something spongy, something slimy, it was the something she had come for.

_"Death is more complicated than people think."_

Something sucked at her right index finger, gripping and pulling. The forest around her darkened to the suffocating black only found in coffins deep within the earth's embrace. Down she went, further and further, until she was everywhere and nowhere. 

_"Not so cut and dry."_

Voices echoed, both loud and quiet. She was looking for spores, and not just any, but the scent and taste of Death Caps. There was stone here, but her tendrils were infinite and all life was fuel, she had patience to outlast even this granite. Quiet vibrations now, almost as subtle as her own vast network. Then sounds, sounds that tugged, bare skin against stone, scuffing back and forth and then…

and then a taste!

A taste as familiar as her own name, a taste that made everything else fade away until she was floating. There was only one word for that taste.

_Scylla…_

The pre dawn light rose, and with it came the griping sounds of a Craven and a closely followed Bellweather. The arguments came closer and closer, and then turned to cries of alarm as they spotted the prone form in the dirt. They screamed a word, over and over again. Was that her name? It felt so small, so limiting. She was so much more than that prison of flesh. They gripped the meat and pulled, breaking the connection to her network, but it did not matter, her reach stretched wide. They would meet again. 

Pressure, fingers and palms against skin that ran over bone and muscle, blood that pulsed, lungs that breathed. She opened her eyes, harsh light penetrating instead of the comforting darkness. Tiny bones vibrated to sound, relief this time instead of anger. She pulled on facial muscles, upturned lips to soothe her unit as they took her from her goal.

She had to wait for the right time. Patience was a virtue she had honed to a deadly point, and she would not ruin it now. She would rise, and she would find the other half, the piece that could complete her.

And then they would be free.


End file.
